Midnight Falls (The Order of Shadows Book 2)

by Kit Hallows

"Dauple?" He sounded surprised and vaguely amused. "If that's what you want."

  "It is. I trust him."

  "Very well. Contact Dauple and give him a location for the handoff." Erland paused, as if he had something further to say, but then decided otherwise. "Good job, Morgan. Come see me when you get back to the city." He hung up.

  I opened a browser on my phone, found a suitable place between Copperwood Falls and the city and sent it to Dauple along with the rest of the details.

  He responded within moments.

  I drove to Auburn, a nondescript town a hundred miles or so from Copperwood Falls. The people I'd pulled from the cells and the long room that had looked like a blood bank sat in the back of the truck, about as far from one another as they could get. They stared at the ground or their feet or the walls, each locked into whatever grim place Dryden's medication had taken them to.

  I pulled into a truck stop just outside of town, a generic location with the usual service station, burger joint and a diner. The kinds of businesses that seemed to breed in such places.

  Soft, slow drops of rain pattered against the dusty windscreen while I watched people shuffling like zombies from their cars to the gas pumps and back again. Blinkereds. I wondered if I could ever become one myself. To live a distracted life happily oblivious to the dark, hidden lands lurking along the peripheries of their perception.

  How long would I last? Not long. Easy boredom and endless curiosity always seemed to conspire against me, dragging me back to the more mysterious worlds. That and my endless quest for the truth, whatever the hell that was.

  I glanced at the mirror as someone in the back sniffled. "You're safe," I said.

  Silence swallowed my words.

  Were they safe? Would they be okay? I hoped so. My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I thought about how I'd found them and I was glad it was finally over. Except for Elsbeth Wyght.

  I glanced at the long stretch of road running north and south. She was out there somewhere, possibly on this very highway, making her way to Copperwood Falls. A twinge of fear shot through the mantle of cold calculating hatred I'd carried for the last two years. Wyght wouldn't go down without a fight. And it would be savage, of that much I was certain. I'd need to gather my wits and every other possible advantage at my disposal. I had the element of surprise, for starters. That had to be worth something.

  I glanced out the window as a battered old yellow school bus pulled up beside me.

  Dauple looked so wrong sitting in the driver's seat. Quite possibly the last guy a person would want to see hauling their kids around. The door hissed open and he jumped down, placing a hand on the brim of his top hat to keep it in place.

  I joined him in the parking lot. "Thanks for coming."

  "My pleasure, Morgan. Always my pleasure."

  "You look happy."

  "I am. Very happy. Things went well with Gretchen."

  Gretchen. I remembered the photo he'd shown me, and felt a twinge of guilt about the silent comparison I'd made between her and a chipmunk that had fallen into a puddle. "I'm so glad to hear it."

  "Indeed. Gretch said our date will have a sequel." Dauple's smile grew wider. "And maybe even a prequel!"

  "How's that going to work? Do you have a time machine?"

  "I've no idea." He glanced up at the truck. "How many?"

  "Fifteen. They're not doing good."

  Dauple's brow furrowed. "I hate black crystals," he said. "They cost me seven years of my life."

  "You used crystals?"

  "A long time ago." Dauple absently scratched his wrist and then caught himself doing it and stopped. "But that was a different life." He gave me a sharp, intense stare. "Everything okay?"

  "Sure."

  "Good." Dauple didn't look convinced, but he left it there as he wandered to the back of the vehicle. "Right, let's get these people some help."

  Together we got them down from the truck and loaded them, one by one, onto the bus. I glanced around to see if any eyebrows were being raised, but no one paid us the slightest bit of attention.

  We got the last passenger seated and Dauple shut the door, the loud squeak and pneumatic hiss making several of them jump. Poor bastards.

  "Rightio," Dauple said as he leaned out the window and tipped the brim of his hat. "I'll see you around, I guess." He pointed at me with his long crooked finger. "Don't think I missed those bruises on your face. You look terrible! Be careful, Morgan. And come back in one piece."

  "I will." I nodded to him, climbed into the truck and set off down the freeway. Early October sunlight filled the rear view mirror while the road ahead barreled toward a wall of dark charcoal-colored clouds, full and heavy like jagged mountains of slate.

  34

  A thin orange band of sunset managed to find its way under the clouds that loomed over Copperwood Falls. Night was coming.

  I parked the army truck on the old dirt road next to my car and left it there. The Organization would remove it later as part of their clean up.

  Darkness fell over me as I climbed into my car and drove back to the lodge. My mood was like a rollercoaster. It felt good, having wiped out Dryden and his gang, as did freeing the people they'd enslaved. But I also felt a terrible sense of sadness for those poor souls, not to mention the ones whose bullet-riddled corpses had been left for the wolves.

  And then there was Elsbeth Wyght. It still felt strange to have heard her voice after all this time. To have had a connection, no matter how brief. Sorina's words had haunted me as well. How many people had Wyght actually killed? She'd casually mentioned hundreds. If that was true, I wondered if she'd even remembered the night she'd slain Willow. Or, if she knew who I was. She had to. I'd hardly kept my relentless pursuit of her low-key. She must have heard I was on her trail by now.

  So why hadn't she taken me out in a preemptive strike? I could still remember the hatred that had twisted her face as I'd fired the shot that took down her acolyte; the red-haired witch that had died in her arms.

  We'd both lost someone that night. And I was hoping she'd lose again, only this time with her own life.

  I pulled up outside my cabin and groaned as I climbed out the car. My body seemed to be little more than a collection of aches, cuts and bruises. The light from the lodge glowed invitingly. I thought about getting a beer, a whiskey and a nice juicy steak, but I had to keep my head clear. Being on the ball tomorrow was crucial.

  I almost had my key in the lock, when I froze. Something was wrong.

  A cold chill ran across my shoulders. An intruder. Someone had been here, and recently. Someone wielding magic.

  I grabbed a crystal and stood at the ready as I checked the hidden binds I'd cast over the door to turn away unwelcome guests. They were still in place, but a sigil had shifted from where I'd carefully aligned it with a knot in the wood.

  The door creaked as I pushed it open and stepped inside, gun in hand. I swept right to left, checking the corners. Empty. I clutched the crystal and used it to scan the cabin.

  Nothing.

  I moved through the room, checking under the bed, in the closet and the shower.

  All clear. The forest loomed outside the bathroom window, like a great shifting wall of dark twisted limbs. I pulled the curtains and returned to the room to check my stuff. Nothing of interest to anyone but me had been left in the room, just my jeans, shirts and a few empty coffee sachets.

  I gave the room one more quick sweep, shut and locked the door, then emptied my bag out on the bed. There were a few crystals left. I considered using them to slip through time, and see who had disturbed the sigils on the door, but decided it would be better to use them to invoke a sentry. A good night's sleep seemed more important than sated curiosity.

  Light flickered upon the cabin walls as I clenched the crystals and absorbed their clean vibrant power. I conjured the spirit of a dreadmorgue, a revolting, spiteful entity that looked like the love child of a hound and a porcupine. It shuffled across the room in its spiny
dark coat, clicking and clacking as it glanced up at me with dead white eyes. "I'm giving you life," I told it. "You have until dawn."

  It nodded and licked its lips with its slathering tongue. Then it reached up with a long clawed hand to touch my chest as a languid drooling line of saliva fell to the carpet. I pulled away. "Back off."

  The dreadmorgue gave a lengthy low moan as I led it to the door and ushered it outside.

  "Stay here, on the porch. If anyone with ill intent tries to get in, you can eat them. Understand?" The dreadmorgue nodded, the sound of its spiky fur like a wet umbrella being shaken.

  I closed the door, turned the lights off and lay back on my pillow.

  My gun was poised on the nightstand and my sword was unsheathed and waiting under the bed. I was about as protected as I could be. Next I took an assortment of salves and potions from my bag and used them to douse the worst of the pain, as well as my new collection of cuts and bruises.

  I stared up at the ceiling and considered how I might ambush Elsbeth Wyght. A bright shimmering shoal of ideas ran wild inside my mind. I allowed each its moment before deleting it and finally settling on a simple plan of action.

  And then I allowed myself to finally give in to the heavy blanket of exhaustion that had folded itself across me.

  35

  The dreadmorgue was still shuffling around outside when I woke but, as first light peered through my curtain, it flitted back to its spectral home. I opened the door and the only sign of the creature's presence was a slight whiff of sulfur and a persistent shadow that clung to the doormat. It would fade by noon, and no one would be any the wiser. Still, I couldn't help but smile as I imagined the possibly of the desk clerk happening upon the beast in the middle of the night.

  It was a cool morning, and a few chalky-white clouds hung in the sky. I showered, dressed and went to the lodge for fresh coffee and some bacon and eggs. The other guests sat in various states of torpor as they ate and drank, blissfully unaware of the malign evil on its way to town.

  The venomous thought of Wyght cut my appetite short, so I returned to the cabin to gear up.

  It didn't take long to gain access to the magical quarter. I stole in behind a nervous-looking man who seemed lost in a world of troubles. I knew exactly how he felt.

  A steady rain fell in this secret hidden side of Copperwood Falls, and that, along with the early hour, made it pleasantly deserted. I entered a shop at the end of the road called "Rosewood and Sons". A name more fitting for a grocers or hardware store, than magical supplies.

  The place was neatly laid out and filled with the pleasant aroma of beeswax candles, dry bitter spices, minty smelling potions and ancient sandalwood.

  "Can I help you?" Asked the young guy behind the counter. I scrutinized his goatee beard and thick-rimmed glasses before meeting his hard, aloof gaze.

  "I hope so. I need some crystals. Plus this." I handed him my shopping list.

  They carried most of the things I was looking for and what they didn't have he found substitutes for. Then he rang it all up on an old-fashioned register, clearly delighting in its analog features. "That'll be three hundred and thirty three."

  "All threes, must be my lucky day. You take dollars?"

  "We do." He studied me closely. "What do you need all this stuff for?"

  "A party." I grimaced as I handed him the cash.

  "Why are you having-"

  I leaned over the counter before he could finish, forcing him to back away and drop his pompous scowl. "This is for you" I said as I handed him fifty bucks. "Now forget I was ever here. Understand?"

  "Sure."

  I snatched my brown paper shopping bags from the counter and left the store in a jingle of bells. Heading back down the street, I spotted an old lady hobbling toward the dilapidated building that led back to town. I followed her and held the door open as she passed through. "Thank you, young man," she said.

  "No, thank you."

  I was about to climb back into my car when I noticed Lily Embersen across the street talking to a man. He had a sour, angry face and she seemed pretty irritated too, her hands chopping the air like daggers as she spoke. As I walked over, the man shook his head and muttered something I couldn't hear.

  Lily's anguish melted as she turned and met my gaze.

  "Everything okay?" I asked.

  The man gave me a long, disgusted look and stormed off, spitting on the sidewalk as he went.

  "It is now, thanks. How are you?"

  Her voice was light, but she still seemed troubled. "I'm fine, just sorry I missed my chance to see you the other night."

  "So am I. I had a treat planned for you." Her eyes twinkled and she added, "perhaps I can give you it tonight."

  "I can't tonight. How about tomorrow? Maybe for lunch?" Providing I manage to take out Elsbeth Wyght along with her coven and survive to tell the tale.

  "Maybe. But tell me, out of sheer unadulterated curiosity... What could you possibly be doing today that's more important than spending time with me?"

  "Just tying up some loose ends."

  "Are you always so mysterious, Mr. Rook?"

  "I try my damnedest to be."

  "Perfect, I love unraveling mysteries. Come over tomorrow, we'll feast upon venison felled by my own fair hand."

  "Perfect. I-"

  A shadow fell over the sidewalk and I turned to find her brother behind me, his expression as hard as granite. "Morning," I said, trumping his scowl with a disarming smile.

  "Rook." He pulled back the cuff of his cashmere sweater and made a show of examining his chunky gold watch. "We're late, Lily."

  "Sorry, Sebastian." Lily bit her lip as she gave me a final look. "I'll see you later, Mr. Rook."

  "You will." I kept my tone light but I could see the conflict in her eyes as she hurried away, two steps behind her brother. They climbed into a metallic grey Porsche and Lily barely had time to close the door before Sebastian pulled out in front of a white delivery van and roared away.

  36

  I did my best to push Lily and her troubles out of my mind as I crossed the street and climbed into my car. I really needed to focus on the task at hand because, according to the text Sorina had just received, Wyght would be arriving right on time.

  I pulled out just as the truck ahead jammed on its brakes to avoid hitting a manic-looking Labrador. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I made brief eye contact with the driver in the Plymouth behind. He wore a baseball cap low on his brow and I could barely see his features, but I got the impression he'd been studying me. The passenger beside him turned away, as if feigning nonchalance. I continued along the main road and headed out of town.

  The Plymouth followed at a leisurely distance until I pulled over and waited for them to pass. Both men stared ahead as they drove by, rounded a bend, and vanished from view. I pulled over before the turn that led to the Country Club, parked my car off the road, and cast a simple illusion spell to hide it from view. I then collected my supplies from the trunk and headed into the woods.

  I walked parallel to the long winding track leading to the Country Club. The place was deserted, no bikes on the lawn, no grannies on the porch cradling shotguns, no cars parked in the lot. I peered through the windows before trying the front door. It was open, which was hardly surprising. Knowing Dryden's reputation, I imagined even the most desperate of junkies wouldn't risk skulking around the place without his say-so.

  A dank, musty odor hung in the air as I walked around and checked each of the rooms. Aside from discarded bottles of booze and drug paraphernalia, they were empty. I found a chair in the medical room Dryden had sent Jerry off to. It was a good set up, clean and well stocked. Much better than I'd expected; clearly the doctor had taken a lot of care. I wondered what had happened to them, and to Jerry for that matter. Had he actually been patched up? Or had he been put down?

  Unfortunately, my bet was on the latter.

  I made my way back downstairs and checked the entry points. There were two;
the front door and a heavily boarded door at the rear of the place. I grabbed a table from the ballroom, dragged it to the back of the building and wedged it in to obstruct the opening further.

  It would hold back a casual intruder and it wasn't likely that Wyght would seek out the back door when she had no reason to suspect a trap. Still, she'd never have survived this long without some form of ruthless cunning, so I needed to know if anyone tried to get in this way.

  I set the bags from the supply shop on the counter and pulled out a tall bottle of Krellowsump; a potent grey treacle-like liquid used in the art of summoning, usually of minor entities. Not that I was planning on performing an invocation. It also had a property that aided magicians in keeping to the center of their circles; something of dire importance when summoning ravenous demons. Pouring a drop of Krellowsump over the interior of a magical circle temporarily made the practitioner's feet and limbs feel as heavy as lead. And it was this feature that made it ideal for slowing down any gatecrashers that might make it through the barriers.

  I sloshed a measure near the doorframe and left a gnatterbox a few feet away for good measure. The gnatterbox was definitely kid's stuff, a toy used for practical jokes, but it also made a pretty effective sentry. When triggered, a gnatterbox's incessant howl was annoying enough to wake the dead but I was just counting on it to give me a welcomed heads up.

  That was my first batch of traps set.

  The next was the fetchesque; a skeletal hand traditionally used by witches to gather rare and secret herbs from high mountain tops and other treacherous locations. But my plan for the fetchesque was considerably less benign. I set it on an overturned crate, taped a charged crystal to it and placed a small revolver in its palm. I waited as its bony fingers curled around the trigger, then I set the charm. "Anyone aside from me that comes this way," I whispered, "Fire."

  Finally I laid a tripwire across the center of the room and rigged it to the drawstrings of the writhing velvet bag I'd stashed under the pool table. Inside was a horde of shadow bats, spectral beings from the high cliff caves of Romania. The creatures were somewhat vampiric, in that they swarmed the living, drawing their hope and will to live from them, sometimes to fatal effect.